Too Late to Turn Back
by airwolf addict
Summary: story 33. A simple recovery mission goes awry, and the complications could turn out far worse than any of them planned for...
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

"Come on, we have to get moving. We're a day behind already," the blond haired Airforce Major directed. The plane they had spent forever getting to was finally in his sights and nothing was going to stop him now, no matter how tired and hungry he was. That plane had food, medical supplies, and most importantly, a one way trip back to the base. All he had to do was get aboard.

Still a good fifty yards off, he saw the side door thrown open and somehow despite his weariness found the energy to run the last length of their journey.

He had no more than set foot inside when it occurred to him the crew was entirely too quiet. One more step inside gave him a clear view of the slaughtered aircrew and the distinctive feeling he had come too far. Realization had hit just a little too late though.

\A/

"I want it to look nice, but not overly flowery," Ellie Mae said, looking once more at the list of places they had been considering for their wedding.

"Well there goes my idea for bringing in the punk rock band," Saint John teased, dropping the box of clothing onto the floor.

"Saint John."

"Sorry," he apologized. "It's just clothes though, I thought…. Never mind," he said, stretching. "I can see how Dom threw out his back though."

"You could take a break," Ellie suggested.

"I could," he agreed, "but I'd like to get everything moved in before I have to pay another month's rent for a place that's just being used for storage."

"Alright, I get it," she acquiesced, getting up from the table, "but afterward you have to help me with that. The only time I've been able to get anything from you, sarcastic or not, has been while you've been moving this stuff."

"I don't mind helping; I would just like to get one project finished before starting the next."

Ellie picked up the abandoned box of toys and started down the hall to Joshua's room. "When did all this even end up at your place? It's amazing we were ever able to get in the front door."

"There were times I wondered." He set the last box down on the bed. "That's it. I'll return the truck and we can get to the fun part - unpacking them."

"Didn't we just pack them in the first place?"

"I was thinking the same thing."

"Before we start unpacking I want to fix us a nice home cooked meal. It's been a while since I've had one, and even longer since I've cooked in this kitchen.

"Sorry," he replied sheepishly. Home cooked meals weren't exactly his specialty and the kitchen hadn't been anywhere near the top of his list of things to do.

She opened the freezer and came across another problem.

"Would you pick up something to cook while you're out? All there is in here are frozen pizzas, ice cream, and some jalapeno poppers."

"What do you want me to get?"

"I don't know, real food."

"That _is_ real food."

"Fine, just some chicken and Bisquick. I'll make chicken and dumplings."

"Anything else?"

"No, I think that's it for now."

"See you in about forty five minutes then."


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

Grimacing, Dominic sat up in the chair and answered the phone only to find it was in vain - wrong number. No sooner than he had settled again with the ice pack on his back, Michael strode into the office.

"Where are the others?" he asked, skipping the greetings.

"I don't know," Dom answered, not bothering to get up again. "Did we miss something important?"

"I have some bad news."

"I think they just came in by the sounds of it. What is it?"

"I'd prefer to tell you all at once." He stepped out of the office for a moment to call the others then came back into be the bearer of bad news.

"So, what is it?"

"There have been suppositions, but no one can tell for sure whether the target was any one specific person or the group in general," the government agent began, "but a plane in the hills of Afghanistan was booby trapped and blown up according to intelligence reports. Unfortunately it was beyond the border our troops were supposed to be behind, so we can't legally investigate the scene. Three people have already been confirmed dead though, with seven others still unaccounted for. Major Mike Rivers is among the missing.

"And there's no way to know for sure what happened?"

"Not _legally,_" Michael confirmed. "Chances are we wouldn't ever find out unless someone reports him dead or if he is able to make it back to a US camp on his own."

"We could take Airwolf over there though."

"The Committee hasn't authorized me to do anything," he cautioned. "Chances are he didn't survive the bombing, and if he did won't last afterward, but if you want to see what you can find out I'm not going to try stopping you. If the Committee finds out though, you're likely to loose any support I might be able to give you without warning. My trying to help you would probably be more of a hindrance though with the Committee's current position on the situation. I wish there was something else I could do." The spy cast a final glance at the room's occupants somberly, already knowing their decision was made. "Good luck." With that said, he left.

"I guess we're off to find Mike now," Dominic said.

"Dom, you don't need to be going anywhere," Saint John advised. "Why don't you just sit this one out and let us take care of it while your back heals?"

He started to object, but, thinking better of it, subsided. Maybe this time he was right; if answering the phone was a major task, he probably didn't need to be venturing through Afghani mountainsides. Besides, if they returned with Mike, there wouldn't be room for all of them in Airwolf if he went.

"Just be careful."

"We will, don't worry, Dom, we'll be back in no time."

\A/

**The Lair**

**About an hour later…**

"You don't have to go either, you know," String reminded his wife upon seeing the tighter than usual flight suit. "We could still-"

"I'll be fine."

"I just thought with what happened last time…"

"I still have two months left. I don't think we'll be having the same problem. I just want to do one more mission. For Mike. Besides, you're only recently healed and with Dom staying somebody has to look out for you two."

"Let's get going then." Despite his reservations, Cait had a point, and surely they could manage to keep her safe for one mission. It would probably be more like a body recovery than actual mission any way. He would make sure she stayed away from any danger and they could be back into the states again before anything had a chance to go wrong.

Once they were out of the Lair, Saint John volunteered to take the first shift flying over there, letting the other two rest. A couple refuels and several shifts later, he was flying again when they entered Afghani airspace.

"We're in stealth mode, right? I know it's not very far in country, but I'd rather not take any chances."

"You've got it."

"Alright, tell me when we get there."

"By the sounds of what Michael said, you'll know it when you get there. It should be visible in about five minutes though."

String was right, Saint John realized soberly, wishing his brother could have been wrong for once. The remaining pieces of the fuselage were blackened and singed, even from the air charred remains of both people and aircraft littered the ground visibly. There were no obvious signs of life anywhere, no signs of any hope.

"Nothing else in the area," Caitlin reported, her usually cheerful tone ebbed away by the gravity of the situation. "We're clear to go in."

In silence, Saint John landed and they began to disembark. Making their way around the sight, it was beginning to look like they had made the trip for nothing when String spoke up.

"I think we have some tarp in the back of Airwolf. It wasn't what we came for, but maybe we could bring back some of the bodies? If they could be identified it would give the families…" he hunted for the right word, not sure there really was one, "… closure. It would at least give them finality, and not be left wondering." He of all people could appreciate that.

"I think that would be a good idea," Caitlin agreed. She couldn't get excited about getting so close to all the dead bodies, but if it would mean that much to their families it would be worth it in the end. She had only caught the tail end of Hawke's many year search, but on a couple occasions she had witnessed the pain it caused him, not even being able to mourn his brother's death and move on, living with the constant fear he had abandoned Saint John. She would be willing to go to a great deal of trouble so someone else didn't have to go through that.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

Gently settling the last one into the back, the back doors were closed and they were preparing for the trip back when it occurred to them none of the bodies had looked like Mike. It was a distinct possibility there wasn't enough left to pick up, or perhaps he had been one of the one recognizable ones, but they had hoped.

"Are we ready?"

"I guess so," Saint John replied quietly, reflecting back to the last time he had seen his friend. He had been too busy with his own personal problems to do anything more than leave a message on his answering machine to say he would see him later, only to have Mike on his doorstep the next morning. He was shipping out. In another month he would have been stateside again, away from dangers such as these. But instead he was just gone.

Why couldn't I have made time for a beer with him? Saint John demanded of himself. Why couldn't I have spent just a little more time talking to him, enough to find out he was getting transferred before the day he left?

Automatically, he climbed inside and began bringing the systems online, oblivious to the world around him until the radar brought warnings of quickly approaching trouble.

"Come on guys. We have to go. Now!"

"Just a minute," Caitlin called back, something catching her eye.

"We don't have a minute, get in," String returned, reaching for her and missing, then running after her.

Caitlin ignored him, carefully picking her footing to the bloodied arm half buried beneath the sand. It had twitched a moment ago, she knew it, she saw it.

"Caitlin!" Hawke called, nearing her. "Cait we have to go."

One step and two muzzle flashes later, she went down, crumpling limply to the ground.

Rushing frantically to her side, he searched for a pulse, praying he could find one. "Talk to me, Cait, please. Say something, anything."

A wave of gunfire sent him ducking, unaware as Saint John brought Airwolf closer to provide cover with her armored hide.

As soon as the gunfire subsided he was at her side again, reassured by a faint cough. His assurance was soon replaced by fear again as he caught sight of the quickly spreading blood stains across her stomach.

"It's alright, Cait, I'm here. We're going to get you to a hospital, just hang on. You have to hang on."

Scooping her up in his arms, he awkwardly made his way toward Airwolf, almost missing how warm the fingers her had clasped were in contrast to the cold lifelessness they should have been. If he was dead that was.

Saint John leaned across, helping him pull Caitlin's limp body inside, increasingly closer gunshots still ringing off the outside of the fuselage.

"Alright, I've got her. Now get in."

"I have to go back; there's another one," he explained briefly.

"We can't. It won't do us any good trying to bring back any of the bodies if we get ourselves killed before we can get out of here."

"I think he's alive though."

With that, he was gone, hitting the ground and wriggling across it down the trench that had been dug out by the earlier explosion.

Saint John swung the Lady around, offering what cover he could, and fired back at the approaching group, hoping the risk his brother was taking was worth it. Rescuing one person wasn't really worth it if you lost several others in the process, especially if the "rescued" person turned out to be dead anyway. If he was alive though, he could certainly understand String's determination to go back for him.

Bullets whizzed overhead, slamming into the sand around him, but he continued on, his focus on the barely moving hand a couple yards in front of him. Whoever it was, they were alive; how long they would stay that way was to be seen, however. Between being shot at and his current physical condition it wasn't looking good though.

Abruptly the hand stopped moving, its owner given up, unconscious or dead. He could only hope it wasn't the latter.

Just reaching it, he hurriedly began to rake off the dirt covering the man, nearly loosing his own head in the process.

Airwolf edged closer, the strong rotor wash becoming as much of a hindrance as a help. At least he wouldn't have far to travel without cover though, he thought.

Finally unearthing the half buried man, he found him to be alive, barely, and breathing, just recognizable enough to be identified as Major Mike Rivers.

"Come on, String," Saint John urged. "We've got to get out of here before they call in reinforcements."

"I'm working on it," he returned. "You want to help me get him it?"

Reaching for him, Saint John grabbed the collar and helped haul him inside, catching enough of a glimpse to get a pretty good idea who it was.

"Is that…."

"Yeah."

"He…"

"He's alive."

"Thank goodness for that."

"He's not going to be long though if we don't get him some help. Even then I'm not so sure."

"What about Cait?"

He threw a worried glance her way. "I don't know, I just don't know."

Saint John lifted off, taking out the remaining enemies with a volley of gunfire from the chain guns while String set up the oxygen masks and fought with the gauze in the back, trying to stop, at the very least slow, the bleeding.

"Sinj, we aren't doing well back here. It's… it's everywhere and I can't make it stop."

"I wish that was all of our problems. Unfortunately we have a pair of MiGs coming our way too."

"Hang on," he whispered, clasping his wife's hand. "Hang on, and don't you dare let go."

I need some ammo - how about a Copperhead as soon as we're in range."

"They're ready when you are." He brought up a screen in front of him with a more detailed list of armament. "They're got heat seekers, so be ready for them."

The first MiG fired a R-73, never breaking the formation, but Saint John evaded it, lining up for his own shot.

"Now."

The laser guided Copperhead raced through the air, never giving the MiG a chance before they collided, exploding on impact.

"One more to go."

I have another one ready when you need it," String said as he pressed the button with one hand, the other still intertwined with Caitlin's. "Just make it quick before things gets worse back here."


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

Fishtailing around in a tight corner, Airwolf avoided another incoming missile, for now.

"What's the ceiling on one of those things?" Saint John asked.

"It doesn't matter, you're going to have to keep it close to the ground."

"That's your specialty though and you aren't up here flying. I don't know if I can shake them that way."

"You'll have to. Our passengers can't take a big pressure change, and we can't take any more risks, they're both in danger of bleeding out as it is."

"String, I've done this before, that last time I did we crashed and burned. I don't want to do that again. It took me-"

"Sinj, you've got to. The choice is now or we're all going down. You _can _do it. I _know _you can, but if you don't do something now we're all going to be dead."

"I…"

"Now, dive now!"

Saint John dropped Airwolf, the missile flying over them, and gained altitude once again, moving to take down the remaining MiG. The shot went wide though.

"Take another shot."

Shakily he brought them into alignment again.

"Fire."

Nothing.

"Come on, Sinj, take it down."

Pressing the fire button, he launched the missile at the oncoming MiG, watching the flames consume it in mid air.

Both conscious passengers let out a deep sigh of relief as then saw the burning fuselage fall to the earth below.

"I told you you could do it."

Saint John shook his head, still staring ahead. "Let's just find a hospital somewhere."

\A/

**Khoula Hospital**

**Muscat, Oman**

**5:46 pm**

Wrapping his arms around the seemingly increasingly frail body of his wife, he scooped her up and carried her out of Airwolf toward the hospital, wishing there was something else he could do for her.

She **would **make it. She had to. Despite trying to convince himself that, the vast amount of blood she had lost was more disconcerting than he wanted to admit.

Two orderlies followed by a young doctor met him with a gurney, taking his burden and before he knew it disappeared beyond the double doors labeled: no entry without authorization. Actually it was in Arabic, but he had a pretty good idea how it worked.

A moment later another group disappeared behind the doors with Mike Rivers.

Saint John stopped beside him, both of them staring at the swinging doors as if expecting someone to reappear with news of miraculous recoveries until a sympathetic nurse directed them to a waiting room.

The adrenaline rush gone, both began to feel the exhaustion from the day's work yet were unable to sleep in fear they would miss something.

\A/

Six hours later Hawke stirred, stretching sleepily, startled when he looked at the clock. Last time he had looked it was four; now it was just past ten.

Getting up stiffly from the barely cushioned chair, he went across the hall to the vending machine, bought a soda, and went back to the waiting room where Saint John was just beginning to stir.

"I take it you didn't hear anything."

"I stayed awake longer than you did," Saint John returned, yawning.

"I woke up first."

"By how much? Five minutes?"

"Alright, you got me there. I guess we'll find out when we find out."

"Maybe now," Saint John replied, seeing one of the doctors enter the room, obviously looking for someone.

"Next of kin for Caitlin O'Shaunessey Hawke?" he called, walking toward the only two people in the room.

"Husband and brother in law," Hawke said, "Stringfellow and Saint John Hawke."

"I'm Doctor Al Safi. He paused for a moment, unsure of how to bridge the gap between introductions and the news he had. "It's nice to meet you, although I wish it was under different circumstances."

"How different? She's going to be alright isn't she?"

"Your wife, she… well, currently we have he fairly stable but-"

"Doctor," a nurse said, poking her head out from beyond the door that separated the waiting room from the emergency room. "We need you in here now."

There was feigned casualness, but she wasn't fooling anyone. There was a medical emergency, and knowing the condition of the two they had brought in, he wouldn't have been surprised if it had something to do with one of them.

"I'm sorry, but I need to go. I'll be back as soon as I can," he excused himself, leaving the same way the nurse had come.

"Well, we almost got some information."

"I need some air, will you keep an ear out for me?"

"Yeah, no problem," Saint John agreed, anxious to hear something himself. "I'll let you know as soon as I find something out."

"Thanks," String said, leaving the room. He hoped a little fresh air would help, but he knew he needed a lot more than that. He needed assurance, to know that they would be alright. And he was stuck with the fear that they wouldn't be in the meantime.

Walking back outside, he was surprised to find how much cooler it had gotten although it was still plenty warm.

Taking a path leading through the shrubbery around toward the back of the hospital, he walked slowly still somewhat favoring his right leg. Occasionally when he was really tired the old limp after nearly getting blown apart four years ago reappeared. Four years, he thought, sure didn't seem like that long ago; it was a while though - Caitlin was still pregnant with Chance, so slightly longer than that actually.

Poor Chance, he thought, his thoughts drifting. Despite the dangers involved with missions and their general lifestyles, he genuinely tried to do all he could to keep Chance safe and make sure he had someone to lookout for him. Dom had saved him and Saint John from all sorts of pain and difficulty by taking them in. No one said it was easy, but he made it so much easier than it could have been. Still, he wanted to be there for Chance. If Cait didn't pull through…. He didn't know what he would do. In the relatively short time he had been with her, he had grown accustomed to having her there when he needed her, having someone to love and to be loved by. Now he couldn't picture his life without her, didn't want to have to. He wanted to tell himself she would be ok, that this time was no big deal, but he wouldn't fool himself any more than he would fool anyone else. It _was _a big deal.

"String!" Saint John called, running out of the hospital doors. "We need you over here now!"


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

Typically big decisions like this one would be made by the patient, or guardian or spouse if the patient is unable to make the decision themselves. However, we are in hospital and our job is saving lives. There really was no choice if any of them was to have a possibility of living," the doctor explained. "Your wife, Mr. Hawke, as you already knew lost a lot of blood due to the two gunshot wounds. The other doctors are still working to keep her stable, but you still probably be able to see her for a short while sometime in the morning."

"What about…" he trailed off, knowing it was too much to hope for.

"What about the kids?" his brother finished, not finding it much easier to ask the question himself in fear of what the answer might be.

"Considering where she was shot and how earlier they are, their chances aren't very good," the doctor cautioned, " but you're now the father of two beautiful little girls."

The doctor continued with his monologue of probability and statistics, but none of it registered with him, only the miraculous news he had two new daughters.

\A/

**Later that Morning**

**NICU**

They're so small, he couldn't help but think as he gazed at the tiny wrinkled red bides in the incubator. He remembered holding Chance for the first time, afraid he would hurt him but at the same time absolutely overjoyed. These though, Chance would have seemed like a giant in comparison. Just a hair over two pounds the doctor had told him.

"So innocent and helpless looking, aren't they?" the nurse commented, catching him watching them.

He just nodded slightly, his eyes never leaving them.

"Do they have names yet?"

"Not yet," he answered. "I thought my wife might want to do that."

"Most of the mothers I see are teeming with ideas. Have you discussed any yet?"

"Not much," he admitted. "We thought we would have a while longer."

"True. How far along are they?"

"About seven months."

"That would explain why they're so small," she replied with a giggle. "I'm sure they'll be fine though. Lets of babies are born premature and end up alright."

"Yeah, I guess so," he allowed, looking down at the wrinkly babies once more. He could only pray his daughters were among that 'lots.'

\A/

"Hello?" Dominic answered the phone groggily.

"Hey Dom," String said from the other end, voice worn and weary.

"String, how are you? Everything alright? I thought you all would be have been back by now."

"So did I. We ran into a few complications. I was hoping you could relay some information for me to everyone back home; the long distance phone calls are a bit pricey."

"Sure, whatever you need."

"Currently we're in some hospital in Oman. I'd be more specific but I can't pronounce the name. We found Mike, but he's not in good shape. None of us have heard much about what's going on with him. Cait got shot too."

"But she's going to be ok though, right? I mean, she didn't-"

"She's alive, that's about all I can say at the moment."

"That's a good start. What about the babies?" he queried , almost too afraid to ask the question.

"They had to do an emergency c-section. So far they're ok, but…"

"But what?"

"I don't know. They just don't look right to me. Maybe it's just because they're so small, but something doesn't seem right. I can't even hold them, Dom. Honestly I'm not sure I would want to if I could, afraid I would break them or something."

Miles away, Dom could sense the raw emotion he hadn't seen in a long time from String, wishing he could somehow show compassion that nothing he could say would properly express.

"You won't break them. You're a good father to Chance, and I know you are going to be a good one to them too. If you'll tell me where to you are I'll find a way over there to see you and meet my new grandchildren."

"You might as well stay where you are for now," String declined, practicality reigning over his true preference. "right now we aren't doing anything but taking up space in the waiting room. Sinj and I were just discussing trying to find a cheap hotel nearby before the hospital staff throws us out."

"You sure? Maybe I could be of some help, at least stop by and take the Lady home on my way back."

"You don't need to be flying her all the way back alone, and she's alright for the time being. I understand your wanting to be here, but there isn't anything you can do currently. I'll call you as soon as I know anything else."

"You better. And none of this waiting until its daylight over here; I don't care if it's the middle of the night."

"I got it, Dom," he answered even as he saw a nurse coming his way. "I gotta go, talk later."


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

"I thought you might like an update," she said.

"I'll take whatever I can get."

"Major Rivers is fairly stable but he received a some second degree burns and is extremely dehydrated. He also shattered his collar bone, probably as a result of being thrown from the force of the blast according to your story. Eventually he should make a near full recovery, barring any complications."

"What do you mean _near_?"

"He almost died, Mr. Hawke, and without proper attention he still could. Second degree burns over large portions of the body as a big deal too. There is a possibility of never damage too," she reminded. "I don't know what how much you know about these kinds of injuries, but they can be very serious."

"Believe me, I know plenty about these kinds of injuries," he retorted dryly. "What about Caitlin?"

"There isn't much to report on there. We're still waiting on some sign of improvement and trying to keep her alive in the meantime. I would suggest finding somewhere to stay and we'll call if anything significant happens."

\A/

"You gave the hotel number to the hospital, right?" String asked, pulling the covers down on the bed nearest the door.

"Yeah," Saint John answered, climbing into the opposite bed. "Now we just have to wait."

"Yeah, just wait." He rolled over, tucking the blankets around himself, seeking restful sleep he doubted would come.

"_Caitlin," he called. "Cait, we have to go. No time-" _

_A moment later he saw the two rounds coming towards he as if in slow motion._

_He stood still, unable to move, unable to speak. He watched as she fell, abruptly going limp and collapsing in the sand even as blood poured from the bullet wound at an alarming rate._

_He continued to stand still. _

_Despite the fear and adrenaline that raced through his veins he couldn't force his limbs to obey. She was going to be dead before he could get there, and all he could do was watch._

The incessant ringing coming from next to him finally succeeded in ripping him out of the awful nightmare and back into a slightly less bleak reality.

He snatched up the phone before it could quit ringing, right out from under Saint John's hand.

"Hello… uh-huh…" he swallowed hard before replying. "I know… bye."

He hung up the phone and swung out of bed, heading for the door. "I'm going outside," was all he said before disappearing.

"It's cold out there," Saint John tried to warn him, but he was too late.

Getting up, Saint John pulled on the hotel bathrobe on before following his brother outside.

"I take it you didn't get good news."

String didn't immediately answer.

"String? How bad is it?"

"One of the kids caught an infection."

That was bad enough, be he sense there was something more. "What else?"

There was another long pause, and even when his brother did answer it was so soft the almost missed it.

"They don't think Cait is going to make it," he finally responded weakly, tears beginning to run down his face. "And I can't do anything about it. All I can do is hope she doesn't."

"We could go back up there," Saint John offered, knowing it would provide little comfort but not knowing what else to say. "It's not like we're getting much sleep anyway."

"It wouldn't help. They have her in surgery now, found some internal bleeding. They have the twins isolated too to help prevent the other one from catching anything. There's nothing we can do. He gazed off into the distance, a far away look in his eyes. "It's just not fair. She as trying to help. She saved Mike's life, and what does she get in return? All she wanted was one more mission, this was the last one until…." he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. "It doesn't matter now though does it?"

Kicking an ant pile, he turned back toward the hotel room.

"Where are you going?"

"Someone needs to take the Lady home. I think she, like me, has had enough visiting, not to mention the bodies still need to be taken care of."

"What about Mike? What about Caitlin and your daughters? They're family, you can't just abandon them."

"What about them? It's been made quite clear I can't do anything for them. I don't know why it is, but I must carry the plague or something. Everyone around me dies, it's that simple. Maybe if I leave the dying will stop. If not, I'll never know, but at least I'll know it wasn't my fault."

"You can't fly Airwolf all the way back by yourself. It's not like you can land in the middle of the ocean if you get tired, and you haven't slept well for days."

"Maybe I can, maybe I can't. There's one sure way to find out."

"You really think that is going to work? That you can just fly away and forget about the past? It isn't that simple and you know it. Even if you did make it somewhere you would spend every day of you life wondering, wondering what happened to them, if they lived or not. You'd be haunted by ghosts of the past and all those people you know you could have saved if you hadn't been busy throwing a pity party for yourself. The fact I'm here right now is living proof you can't let stuff like this go."

"What else am I supposed to do? I'm sick of sitting here waiting on some doctor to send his lackey nurse to tell us they're all dead."

"They aren't dead yet. I would think you could understand that considering how you like to defy death on a regular basis. How would you feel if Cait had just upped and left the first time things weren't looking good for you?"

"At least she wouldn't be dying in a hospital thousands of miles away from home right now."

"But what if she doesn't die? Goodness knows you've beat the odds more than once yourself. You love her, String, that much is obvious. Don't deprive yourself of someone you love because of an old fear it might not last as long as you want it to. Wouldn't it be better to enjoy being with her for while than only have regrets of not ever making a go of it? Besides, she probably wouldn't be in any different situation even if she hadn't married you. She knew the dangers when she accepted your proposal, but she had already accepted them when she joined the team years ago."

Stopping and turning back toward his brother, he sighed. "I know. I couldn't really leave them, you're right about that. If nothing else, the wondering and guilt would eat me alive. The Lady does need to go back though, and the sooner we can get the others' bodies back the better. I feel like I need to do something and there isn't anything I can do here. Besides, Dom would like hearing from one of us too I'm sure. I don't think actually, I know. The others aren't ready for a transatlantic flight yet though."

"At least let me come with you then; you can't fly all the way back on your own."

"I don't want to leave them alone either."

"We can make the flight back in the Lady, pay a quick visit with everyone at home and then fly commercial back. With the time zone change we can be gone only about a day."

"Alright. Let's do it then."


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

"Feeling any better?" Ellie Mae asked as she carried in homemade lunch of BBQ sandwiches and potato salad, the boys on her heels.

"A little," he answered. "I got a call from String not too long ago."

"How're they doing? Are they going to be home soon?"

"Actually yes, but I don't think they're planning on staying. Caitlin got hurt and is currently in a hospital over there."

"Is she going to be alright?"

"I don't know," Dominic replied frankly. "She was shot and they had to do an emergency c-section; that's about all I know on her."

"Anything about the rest of them?" she inquired hopefully.

"Mike Rivers was the only one they found alive, but he's not in great shape either. They're coming in tonight briefly. You might get a chance to talk to them if you can catch them. I'm going to pick them up when they fly in and bring them back to my place to clean up."

"That would be good. If you don't mind, call me when they come in and I'll come by for a few minutes."

"I'll do that."

"See you then." She turned to leave but only made it two steps before turning back around. "Sorry, I forgot to leave this," she said, setting down the basket of food. "I brought you something in case you got hungry. I thought with you being the only one here it might be a little difficult to get out for some lunch. I can bring something tonight for when the guys get back if you want too."

"You don't have to do that. I plenty of food they can help themselves to."

"I insist. I'll bring something, two somethings - something vegetarian for String and something else for Saint John. I can bring a snack for you too if you want, and if I bring the boys they're-"

"Ellie," Dom interrupted in fear she would buy out the entire grocery store, "why don't you bring a little snack everyone will eat like sandwiches or crackers and cheese. It'll be in the middle of the night and they'll probably be as interested, if not more, in a couple hours of sleep as a seven course meal."

"Oh. If you're sure…"

"I'm sure, it will be fine."

"Where did you say they were again? Is it some place they can actually have normal food or do they serve a bunch of strange seafood or dog or something? Because I can send them with-"

"Just a snack, Ellie. They'll find something."

She nodded and turned to leave again. "I'm going to go work on that snack then, maybe find some fresh clothes for them."

"Sounds good, see you tonight."

"Yeah, tonight."

\A/

"Some outside lighting really would be helpful," Saint John commented as his brother lined them up and began to descend into the lair.

"That would kind of negate the point of being out here in the middle of nowhere though."

"True, but you have to admit it would be nice."

"It wouldn't hurt," he agreed. "Did you contact Dom yet?"

"You bet. He should be here any time now."

On que, Dom pulled up in the Santini Air jeep, climbing out to give each of them hugs. "Good to see you boys."

"Good to see you too, Dom."

"Come on, hop in. I'll take you back to my place so you can get cleaned up and rest a bit before your flight. I did get the tickets you requested, but the first flight isn't for another six hours."

"That sounds good. It wasn't until we were helping unload the bodies that I realized how tired I was."

"I bet. Now, I'll drive us back and you can fill me in on what I've missed."

\A/

**10:58 pm**

**Dom's Apartment**

Dropping to the couch, Saint John let out a deep sigh. "It's been some day, hasn't it?"

"Sounds like it. I'm sure they'll be alright though. They'll be back home getting better in no time," he encouraged, although plenty worried enough for himself and the two of them.

The conversation was suddenly interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Who comes to visit in the middle of the night?" Hawke growled, reaching for his gun, Saint John beside him with his already drawn.

"Now, now, calm down. I'm sure it's nothing to be getting all up in arms about," Dom placated, heading for the door.

A moment later the quiet apartment was filled with shouts of joy as Ellie, Le, Joshua, and Chance invaded.

"Surprise!"

Chance ran to his father, pouncing on him with a strong hug, Le heading for Saint John and Josh not far behind. Ellie set down the plate of sandwiches and joined the happy group.

"Welcome back home guys, even if it is only for a little while."

"You planned this didn't you?"

"Me?" Dom repeated in false innocence. "Nah."

"Sure you didn't," he said sarcastically. "Well I appreciate it anyway."

"Enough of this melancholy conversing then, let's have some fun."

\A/

**5:02 am**

"Well, time to get back to the real world of death, war, and tragedy I guess."

Saint John made no comment in return to his brother's remark. He wanted to say that he was wrong, that no one was dead yet and no one had to die, that in the end it would all be fine. Unfortunately he couldn't. Too many were already dead, more on the brink. Even Mike faced the dangers of permanent damage, and he was the one doing the _best_.

"This is your captain speaking. I request that all passengers find their seats and buckle their seat belts at this time as we prepare for takeoff," the voice over the intercom said.

"Too late to turn back now."

Within minutes they had taken to the air and were once again on their way to Oman.

Both of them in desperate need of sleep, Saint John being the only one who was eventually able to drift off even to a restless slumber.

_Transferred…. It stung badly, the regret, the guilt. In the short time he had been friends and roommates with Mike they had developed a strong friendship and mutual respect for each other. He had already felt badly for having to cancel his previous evening's plans, but now to top it off he was being transferred, gone for awhile if not forever…_

_Mike hadn't wanted to leave, but orders were orders. He had known that when he joined the Air Force. Somewhere along the line he had become more attached than he ever realized though. He was scared too. He might not have wanted to admit it, but the seriousness that replaced the typically playful and joking attitude of the Major gave the whole façade away._

"_Maybe I'll see you around some time," Mike said, the tone in his voice giving evidence to his fear they may not. And with that said, he walked away, perhaps for forever._


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

"He's sleeping now," the nurse said, showing Saint John to Mike's room, "but he'll probably be awake in a little while. He is on a fair amount of painkillers though," she warned, "so don't let him do anything that would be potentially hazardous to his health and keep him calm. He won't have very good coordination and often gets frustrated, so just page on of us if you need anything. We'll be right down the hallway."

Saint John nodded, figuring by now he had hospital procedure pretty much down and waited for her to leave before moving to the side of the bed.

"Mike, I don't what to say," he began, trying to rehearse what he was going to say when the pilot woke up.

"How 'bout you really stepped in it this time?" the blonde haired man mumbled, shifting uncomfortably in the bed.

"I was going more for I'm sorry, I shouldn't have put you off."

"I'm sure you had other things on your mind."

"I did, but I should have made time for my friend. I just wasn't expecting you to show up on my doorstep the next morning to tell me goodbye. How long before you left did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That you were being transferred to Afghanistan."

"I don't know. I was just trying to remember if I told you or not." He settled back against the flat pillows, fidgeting with them himself for a minute before turning back to his friend. "Would you slide that pillow up a bit for me?"

Saint John pulled the pillow, immediately backing off when he saw the grimace of a barely concealed groan spread across Mike's face.

"Go ahead. I'm fine."

"You sure don't look it."

"The meds are wearing off." He squinted at the clock on the wall trying to make sense of the fuzzy numbers and finally giving up and settling with an estimate. "Nurse'll be in soon with more. Wanna talk before she does."

"You said you don't remember coming to see me; what _do _you remember?"

"Everything I'm not supposed to. Listen, Saint John, it's not just my shoulder that's messed up. My brain is so scrambled I don't know what to think. It might be the medicine, but I'm inclined to think not. I remember part of the ambush that put me here in the first place, enough to wonder how I was so lucky. I should be burnt to a crisp like the rest of them, and yes I saw every one of them. I don't know how I'm still here, I don't even know why I was over there in the first place. The entire last six months - blank." He dropped back against the pillow, his pain obviously increasing, Saint John judged by the pinched look on his face.

"Do you want me to get you something? The nurses are just down-"

"No, they'll be in soon anyway. When…." he let the sentence hang as he drifted off again.

Nurse reentering the room, she sent a brief glance his way then back to the patient as she deftly changed the IV bags, her heart going out to him. The thing she hated most was watching people suffer in conditions like these - the actual physical pain of the patient, and the emotional of the friends and family. Yet it was much the same thing that brought her into this career, being able to provide hope for another day. She just wished she knew enough English to tell him that. Instead, she did all she could, smiled and walked away.

\A/

From outside the window Stringfellow Hawke watched as the grim-faced doctor shook his head and told tow of the other medical personnel something. He didn't need the words to know it was bad. The doctor continued until he reached his other daughter, the younger by seven minutes and smaller by two ounces, where he stopped to listen to her chest and gave a dissatisfied look, making some mark on his charts. Finished inside, he came out the door, nearly hitting Hawke with it as he swung it open.

"Excuse me," he managed to get out before the doctor had disappeared beyond sight. "The girl in there..she..is she.." he couldn't finish the sentence because of the sudden lump in his throat.

"I'm sorry, but I can't give out any medical information on any of them without proper authorization from the mother."

"I'm the father, please."

"I can't, sorry sir." he turned to continue down the hall until Hawke stepped in front of him again.

"She's my daughter. I think I ought to have the right to know what's going on."

"And you can, once I have authorization from the mother. Until then-"

"The mother has been in surgery for the last hour and a half for some internal bleeding you doctors can't seem to stop," Hawke cut him off. "I can raise some real hell on earth if I need to, but I didn't think that was going to be necessary. All I wanted was to k now if my daughter was going to be alright or not."

"I don't want any trouble here and I'm sure this can all be resolved very quickly," the doctor backpedaled. "Please follow me and I'll get whatever you need."


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

"I think you best sit down," the woman suggested.

Only after several useless minutes of fighting them and a few choice threats he was sorely tempted to carry out, could they get anyone to tell him what was going on. Even then, it took them another ten minutes to find a "suitable" discussion place where they could actually tell him something. Or at least that was what they were supposed to be doing; he was still waiting.

"Please, Mr. Hawke."

"What are you, some kind of shrink?"

She didn't answer.

"You are." He dropped into the chair across from her with a sigh. "Just remember, _I'm _not the patient.

"There's no easy way to say any of this," she began, "but you've been doing remarkably well considering what you've been through. You wife in-"

"Spare me the sympathy talk and just tell me what's going on," he cut in impatiently.

"Nothing has changed with your friend of wife. The second daughter is sounding congested, and the doctor has her put on antibiotics in an effort to flush whatever it is out of her system. We might have caught it too late though."

"What are her chances?"

"She's young, premature, and doesn't have much of an immune system yet, compounded with the fact she had a stressed birth… the odds aren't in her favor. It is possible for her to pull through, but I wouldn't get my hopes too high."

"What about the other one? Straight forward without all the flowery explanations."

"There isn't anything we can do for her now. She's dead."

\A/

Fingers intertwined with his wife's, String rested with his head in her lap, tears dampening the thin blanket that covered her.

Was it worth it? He had to wonder. Did the people they saved and risked their lives for ever appreciate it enough to make up for this?

Letting the tears fall, he knew most of them would never know the difference.

Somebody needed to do it, but having a family too came with more than its fair share of risks. He knew it; Cait knew it. But somehow that didn't make it any easier when it all fell apart.

Life would continue on one way or another, at least for most of them; it would still bring the same hard choices and decisions nobody wanted to make. The only question would be who had to make them and how close to success they came.

"I'm sorry it turned out this way," he apologized in a choked whisper. "I'd give anything to be able to do it over again." The tears fell again as he gripped her limp hand tighter, trying to anchor himself to something real he could hold on to as the foundations of his life shook, threatening to fall at any moment.

There was a time when he had lived without Cait, without Chance and their two beautiful daughters. In theory he should be able to go back to that kind of life and live as happily as before. He wasn't sure he could though. How a daughter he had only seen once, a baby without a name, could matter so much, he didn't know, but it did. He cared immensely about the bundle of life that he had been able to be a part of if only for a short time. He was afraid of what would happen to the other one, knowing her chances, if anything, were worse. On the other hand, he didn't want to waste his time with her either.

"I want to say it'll be alright, but I can't. Our baby is dead, never had a chance."

\A/

**6:30 am**

**Caitlin's Room**

The gentle squeeze of his hand was enough to wake Hawke from his restless sleep. What he got when he sat up was far more pleasant than he had been expecting however. He figured it was a doctor or nurse with that look on their face that told you they were trying to be sympathetic but really didn't have a clue how hard things were on you, or that this was simply their job and then would treat you no differently than any businessman treats his clients. He expected to be shooed away because he had been there too ling or they needed to run some useless test, but instead he was regarded by half opened hazel eyes staring at him from their position farther up the bed.

"Water," she requested in a dry whisper.

He quickly obliged, giving her sips from the foam cup on the nightstand until she was satisfied.

"How long?" she asked.

How long what? How long had she been out? How long had their daughter been dead? How long had he been here achieving nothing more than getting her bed damp with his useless tears?

She said nothing, but with a shaky hand wiped away the lingering tears that trickled down his stubbly cheeks.

"How long have I been growing a beard?" he asked with a fake laugh. "I don't know, too long."

She shook her head. "How long have you been here, been crying?"

"Too long on that one too, but things are starting to look up now that you're awake."

She gave him a weak smile, sorry for what she had put him through. As he hand came back down to her stomach, she observed how quickly he broke eye contact, almost refusing to even look in her direction.

Her heart sank, realizing what must have happened, and knowing it was all her fault. If she hadn't insisted on going on one more mission…. She swallowed, struggling to form a question. "Did…I….did I loose them?"

Hawke was silent.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

"But one of them is still alive?" Caitlin asked, tears still streaming down her freckled cheeks.

He nodded, suppressing the bitter words _for now _that came to mind.

"Does she have a name yet?"

"No, I thought you might like to do that."

"But you didn't know that I…"

"Maybe not, but I hoped." She gave him a grateful smile. "You could have named her, String."

"I know, but I wanted you to. You don't have to now though, could wait until you see her at least."

"Alright, I'll think on it until then. Have you gotten to see her?"

The look on his face as he remembered his brief visit with their daughter told her he had done more than that.

"I have. She's got gorgeous big green eyes and a tiny bit of red hair. Looks a lot like you, just like I said we'd have. She's beautiful, Cait, perfect."

For a moment he was able to put aside the fear and take in the brighter side of the story until he remembered the doctor's warnings.

"_Sounding congested…more antibiotics….might be too late… young, premature, little immune system… possible to pull through, but I wouldn't get my hopes too high…"_

The couldn't get the bleeding stopped any other way, hated to have to do it, but Caitlin wouldn't be having anymore kids. The tiny bundle in the other room that was clinging to life was his only chance of fulfilling a promise he so wanted to fill.

At the moment he wanted nothing more than for her to live, for this whole mess to be over. No one could say whether or not that would happen though. He just wasn't sure what he would do if it didn't.

\A/

Slowly the blurred images around him came into focus as he opened his eye, blinking several times.

Or not.

He tried, but it just wasn't working.

"Saint John, you here?"

"Yeah," his friend answered sleepily, working his way through yet another cup of coffee. "What is it?"

"I was 'bout to ask you the same thing. What's so wrong with me that they gotta give me drugs so strong? Can't see straight, can't think straight… I feel like I have the world's longest hangover, and a nasty headache it is."

"Mostly just for your shoulder I suppose. You did mess it up pretty badly."

"How much longer 'til they come with more meds?"

"Another hour at least, why?"

"Cause a couple minutes til, I want you to find me a doctor."

"I can find you one now if you want, just say the word," Saint John offered.

"Nah, wait 'til I'm a bit more sober. You might wanna stick around though, make sure I don't act like a _complete_ idiot."

"I'm sure you'd be alright."

"Maybe, maybe not. I'd prefer to keep from getting sent to the psych ward though. I hear they lock those doors, much harder to get out."

\A/

"Mr. Rivers," the doctor tried to explain, "you were put in the medications because of the intense amount of pain you would be suffering from if you weren't on them. If I take you off them…"

"I'd just like to be able to think for myself again. I broke my collarbone and hit my head, I'm not seeing anything to keep me in the hospital this long. So give me a few prescriptions and send me on my way; that's what the Air Force would be doing.

"This is a hospital not the US Air Force, and we aren't in a war. There isn't any logical reason why you shouldn't be fully healed before returning to duty."

"War or no war, I'm ready to get out of here and off these drugs. Something needs or I'm going to be demanding discharge papers."

"Fine. I'll cut down the medicine and see how it goes for a while. Any other demands you'd like to make?" Dr. Al Safi asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, actually. Some halfway decent food sounds good; I think I'm going to make my way to the cafeteria for a sandwich or something. You're welcome to join me though if you would like."

\A/

**Approximately one week later…**

Saint John knocked on the door and waited a moment before entering although more out of courtesy than necessity. When he came in he didn't find Mike in the bed like had expected however.

"Mike?" he called, stepping inside curiously.

"I'm here," the Air Force Major answered from in front of a small closet tucked around the corner.

Saint John continued in, seeing his friend using his one good arm to dig through the remarkable amount of things that had been stuffed inside for his shoes.

"Where did all that come from? I only remember bringing you in with some tattered clothes that wouldn't have hardly been worth throwing away simply because there wasn't much of anything to throw away."

"I really don't know. Half this is hospital stuff, the rest though… I sent your brother on a clothing mission at some point, but I hardly view him as a shopaholic. I was trying to get his mind off Cait for a while mostly, maybe I did _too _good of a job. Anyway, it sure isn't helping much now. Would you be willing to dig through and see if you can find my other shoe?"

"Only you, Mike," Saint John laughed, beginning his hunt. "Does this mean they're releasing you or are you running away?"

"Releasing me, although I'm not sure where to. It's practically the same either way."

"You could fly back home. We already took the Lady back, but there isn't any use in you sticking around if you don't want to."

"I'll stay. I heard Caitlin is doing better and I'd like to see that new niece of yours if I can. When I head back it's going to be nothing but work, debriefings, and answering questions. If they already think I'm dead, what's another couple days gone? Just between you, me, and the IV stand, I wouldn't mind taking it easy for a while. I mean, I'm anxious to start flying again, but I'm sure they're going to ground me for a while after this anyway."

"I can understand that. Just do yourself a favor and don't get into any more exploding planes."

"I'll try my best," Mike promised. "But then again, sometimes they can just look so inviting. I got to sleep for a three days straight this time; that's a heck of a lot more sleep than I usually get on active, not to mention all the amenities - room service, an on call doctor, time with friends…"


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

Standing outside the NICU, Stringfellow Hawke waited for hat had to be one of the hardest moments of his life. The doctor would come out in a minute to give him an update on his daughter, his prognosis on how well she was doing and how likely she was to make it.

He had just been beginning to get his hopes up until three days ago when her fever had suddenly spiked. The days following were a blur of confusion and worry, but he knew enough to tell it was touch and go for a while. He hadn't seen the doctor or Mia, as Caitlin had decided to name her, since early the previous evening and had a feeling that wasn't such a good thing. Mia. It meant wished for child, appropriate he thought. He did wish for her, more than anything else. He had wanted a daughter, someone Caitlin could really relate to. She may not admit it, but he knew that occasionally she was a bit envious of the special bond he had with Chance, and this would give her and opportunity to have something similar. Never before would he have thought that two little girls could change his life so much in so little time, and he'd already lost one of them, lost the chance to have more. He couldn't bare loosing this one too.

He turned his gaze back to the window, awaiting Dr. Al Safi'a return. When he finally stepped out of the isolation too though he thought he was going to die of anticipation and fear. What if the doctor didn't bring good news? What is the same infection and fever her sister had succumbed to had gotten to Mia?

"Mr. Hawke," Dr. Al Safi addressed.

"Yes?" He rubbed his sweaty pals on his pant leg, wishing he could have rubbed the tension away as easily.

"I'm sorry things didn't run out better for your other daughter," he began. "If we had caught the infection a little earlier we might have been able to prevent her death; then again, maybe not. When we found similar symptoms in Mia, I'll admit it worried me a great deal. I'll also tell you it wasn't good for a while, we did almost loose her; however her fever broke last night and her condition has steadily been improving since then. I'd like to keep her a little longer for observation and precautionary treatment, but I think she's going to be alright."


End file.
